


Eggs for Breakfast

by FuckMeICanDoMagic (MrsSherlock)



Category: Rivers of London - Ben Aaronovitch
Genre: Gen, Nightingale speaks them too, Peter and Nightingale talk about languages, but i'm sure you will understand it, it's nothing too hard, there is a bit german in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSherlock/pseuds/FuckMeICanDoMagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly tries something new for breakfast. Languages happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eggs for Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote that at 1am in the morning; don't know why I did that. So there surly are some mistakes. Feel free to point them out.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And tell me what you think.

I think I know how this happened. No, I'm sure I know how this happened. How I got my governor speak in another language to me. Not Latin, mind. I hear _that_ often enough already. Well, it's not completely useless. I can Insult people without them noticing and while I do so, I sound pretty smart. Just be careful around people who know enough Latin to notice...

Anyway, back to my breakfast. I blame my mother for this all, although I should probably thank her. She celebrated her birthday a few weeks ago, and like in every African family, there was a big party. I don't remember half the names of those who came, but who am I to complain? Among her birthday presents was a cookbook. 'Breakfasts from all over the World' it read on the front. I saw it and knew my mum wouldn't like it. She kept it a few days then she gave it to me. I honestly don't know why me, I suppose she just wanted it out her flat. I obviously have no use for a cookbook, so gave it to Molly.

And that’s why Nightingale and I have to suffer from every recipe in there. Some of them are quite good, a few aren't and for the rest, we hadn't them, yet. I don't know what you can do wrong while making breakfast, but it seems it's quite a lot. We already had our traditional English breakfast (of course), also French, Russian, American, Chinese and Italian, just to name a few. There are roughly 200 different countries in the world and I don’t know of Molly wants to do them all. Until now she seems to have fun, considering this is the third week she is doing this. On the third or so day - I think we had a French breakfast, or was it from Peru? I don't know anymore - Nightingale looked me sharp in the eyes and asked, "You are responsible for all this, aren't you?"

I think he didn't like it.

I suppose today's breakfast is from Germany. One of my friends from school once was in Germany and told me something that comes what is on the table very near. There are many kinds of bread and bread rolls to choose from. With or without grains, fair or dark ones. And there's a lot of cheese. And sausage. And a boiled egg on top of that.

Nightingale just finished reading his newspaper and sets them aside. By the way, I think he likes this one. He digs right into it.

"Where do you think this is from?", I ask. In the meantime, this question became kind of a ritual. We take a guess and if we are uncertain one of us (and I mean me) sneaks up into the kitchen and finds out. Nightingale got more right than I did.

"It's from Germany, I think. I don't know another country that has so many different kinds of bread.", he finally answers.

"Me too.", I say and take another bite of my bread roll. A few moments pass, where neither of us says a word. Or, I think only a few moments pass. Nightingale gets me out of my thoughts when he says "Just spit it out, Peter."

"Sorry, what?"

"Your question. I know you have one, I can practically see your mind working.", Nightingale says slightly amused. It gets me slightly confused.

"What makes you think that?"

"You haven’t eaten in a few minutes and stared at a wall." I look down on my plate, then on his. His is empty, mine still half full. _Oh._

"Your question", Nightingale demands. How do you ask your governor to say something in another language that is not Latin, I'm used to that. But I think his demand cleared that question for me. Straight forward it is.

"You see, I was wondering, if you could say something in German?" Well, not straight-as-a-ruler straight, but much politer. Nightingale looks taken aback for a second, but gets his composure shortly after. "And why is that?", he asks.

"Just curious, really" Nightingale gives me that look of his. His Looks when he is not so sure about my actions.

"I don't want you to tell me any magical spells, if that is what concerns you.", I try to reassure him "I want to hear pretty normal things, like..." I search the table for an idea. "like 'newspaper'!"

"Zeitung", Nightingale says just a little bit skeptical. Really just a little bit.

"Sorry?"

"'Zeitung' is German for 'newspaper'.", he explains. I take his answer for permission to continue. And of course when you get the opportunity to ask, you are at a loss for questions. It’s always the same. That's why we at the Met get a fixed order of questions we have to ask, so we don't have that gap. It would look stupid if a policeman comes to a murder investigation and had no idea what to ask the reputed culprit, wouldn't it? So I have to work with what I have right in front of me.

"What is 'egg' in German?", I ask eventually.

"Ei."

"I? Like the letter?", I ask stupidly.

"No, not like the letter. It just sounds like it. Spelled out it is capital E-i. Ei."

"Interesting. Why is the E a capital letter?"

"Because of the German grammar. And I am fairly certain, you don't want a lesson in German grammar." He smiles a small smile at that.

"That's quite right, sir. So the next thing I want to know is, what is 'bird' in German?" In the meantime I thought of some words for him to translate for me.

"Vogel."

"And what is 'nightingale'?" This gets me a very skeptical look from him; I expected that. He answers anyway: "Nachtigall. Do I get a reason?"

I can't blame him for that question, so I answer: "Well, the nightingale is a bird..."

"I'm very aware of that."

"And I was curious." I smile sheepishly at him.

"I believe that more than anything else.", Nightingale says in a kind of playful tune. I can't but smile at that. And I get a small smile back.

"Next word.", I say, "What is 'wizard' in German?"

 "Zauberer.", he says with the smile still in the corner of his mouth.

After that come a few more until Nightingale calls a stop to it with the reason we still have something else to do than sitting here and playing dictionary.

"Just one more, please!", I beg and for a moment I feel like a five year old asking for another piece of chocolate. Eventually Nightingale sighs quietly and says: "Okay, what do you want to her?"

"This time a sentence!" I kind of demand excited. I swear, I feel like a five year old in front of Santa Clause.

"Tell me.", Nightingale says with a smile on his lips. He's smiling a lot this morning. I could get used to that, he has a nice smile. I take a few moments for thinking of a sentence.

"Say: 'Peter Grant and Thomas Nightingale against the rest of the world!", I say while smiling wide. My choice of words get a laughter out of him. He should lough more often.

"Peter Grant und Thomas Nightingale gegen den Rest der Welt!", Nightingale translates then, still with a smile on his lips.

"Sounds good."


End file.
